


So Nice

by virghoe



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flawed characters, Gen, Minor Injuries, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virghoe/pseuds/virghoe
Summary: You're nights and days are seemingly starting to blend together, but when new transfer Brian arrives, you find yourself stopping to smell the roses a little more.College AU, reader is going through the motions so to speak, only to realize how flawed they really are when confronted with someone they actually like. Very imperfect characters balancing in the web of booze, parties, hookup culture, etc.
Relationships: Brian David Gilbert/Reader, Patrick Gill/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 22





	1. Fruit Bat

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I haven't written fic in a very long time and I have never written for this fandom so pls be gentle! Would love any suggestions in the comments bc I am not sure where this is going? Just feeling like writing something romantic and sappy bc quarantine has rotted my brain.

You watched the shuffling of sweaty bodies against and through one another from the recliner at the corner of the room. Your feet tucked under you and a bottle balanced on your lips, once again you had forgotten it was basically empty, a warm drop wets your lip. This is enough to persuade you to abandon your mossy green throne and push through the crowd towards your kitchen. It was a Friday night like any other, by quiet hours your house would clear and you could return to your corner and eat the leftovers you had saved. When reaching in the fridge for another beer you saw the tin missing, Damn, you had really wanted those. Either you weren’t drunk enough to start a temper tantrum or too drunk to care, so you shrugged and snagged a bottle, angling it under a drawer handle and popping the lid off to fall into a pile of others on your floor.

“Fuck me, I have to clean tomorrow” you thought. 

After glancing over at where you previously sat, and saw it was occupied by a girl with mascara tears and her friend wiping them with the hem of her shirt, and before that was a moat of bodies talking and dancing, you decided to walk over to the pong table. After declining to play with a bitten smile and a shake of your head that made you feel rather coy, you felt a tap at your arm. Pat was balancing a box of Marlboro Reds on your shoulder with the tip of his index finger and smiling through slightly fogged glasses. 

“Hey, man, thanks- you didn’t have to”

“You’re such a gracious host, (y/n), _I have to_ ” Pat often bummed cigarettes at parties and you were all too eager to give them out when you were drunk, so this exchange wasn’t uncommon. Pat is a man of his word, and that's why you liked hanging out with him. You took the pack, snatched your jacket from the closet and walked out your front door. When the music became muffled, a bit of tension released from your shoulders. You liked parties, and crowds even, but that night was one of those nights that no matter how hard you fight it, no matter who you dance with or what you drink, you feel a little lonely. There were still a great deal of people bustling around you and Pat. You both were standing underneath the awning of your townhouse, and out before you was a field that often attracted campus wide parties. Tonight the field was sparse and you could hear other music from other buildings, no mingling of the separate groups. If you were out there long enough, which you often were, you could see people going home together, people going home to get more beer, people talking on the picnic benches, or other people smoking on other patios. 

Above you, you heard familiar guy friends perched on the awning, and you looked at Pat with a raised brow,

“Fruit Bat. But this time I think they’re using a golf club and some grapefruit from the Caf” 

“Ah. Is the goal for distance or explosion?” you asked before lighting your cigarette.

  
“Depends on how old the fruit is” Pat said while pinching a cigarette between his teeth, grabbing your lighter once you were finished. While you could say you were ‘friends’ with everyone there, you weren’t very interested in participating in their antics- while it was admittedly pretty funny. You looked out into the field and saw someone talking on their phone, for a while you presumed, as he was walking with heavy weighted feet that swung dramatically with each step, eventually climbing on one of the picnic tables, then stepping down. He didn’t look familiar, you wonder if he was looking for this party. It was only the second week of the new school year, so you were still adjusting to the discomfort of so many new students. It never got comfortable, even by your senior year. 

“So how's the thesis” Pat asked to get your attention. He was leaned up against the brick, cleaning his glasses and pushing his hair back behind his ear. This particular pose reminded you of freshman year when you both had kissed at a halloween party, and decided it was stupid and to never talk about it again. Except it had become exceptionally funny to you, so you started laughing a little. Teasing Pat was a not-so-secret pleasure of yours, and he seemed to enjoy it in a way that only encouraged you.  
  
“Well, I only started it last week- and it’s due in may- so I'm almost done. You look cute by the way” you said snorting and flicking your ash.

  
“All for you” he smiled.

“Do you need me to hold back your hair tonight or can I be the one to vom?” Pat asked, picking fun at you for Monday, when you drank a margarita at a mexican place that didn’t hit your stomach quite right. You laughed again and remembered that parties don’t have to be so lonely and most of the time you do this to yourself. Pat was a good friend, not without fault, but he was nice to keep around when the world seemed so big and so empty all at the same time. Just then you looked out to the field again, the stranger from earlier edges closer to your house, the street lamps reflecting off his glasses. You wanted to just ask him where he was going, but you decided against that, fearing he might be rude and not wanting to walk all that twenty or so feet. Pat felt similarly.

  
“Who’s that poor son of a bitch? Been out here for like an hour”

  
“I don’t know, I feel like I don’t know anyone at this school anymore”

  
And just then, after hearing a call of some kind, fruit particles flew out before you both onto the grass.

  
“That one was a pear, I believe” said Pat. 

“Excellent form” you said, tipping your head back for a large swig of beer. You heard another screech, you deduced they were saying ‘fore’ before swinging, and watched as a grapefruit arched up into the air, and perfectly struck the guy on the phone in the head. He went down fast.

  
“Oh shit” You and Pat both said, overlapping one another, putting your cigs out and your beer down. You both jogged out towards the guy, who you now could see was a fairly quiet looking boy, thin with soft brown hair. He sat up quickly by the time you knelt down next to him.

  
“Ah, shit, I’m good” he said, palming his head. Pat turned and threw his arms up at the guys on the awning, who shouted a faint “Sorry” over the music and distance.

  
“I’m really sorry, this is my fault, it’s my party and-”

  
“Hey it’s ok, they didn’t know” the guy said, interrupting you, and you wondered if grapefruits could cause a welt or even a bruise.

  
“Can I get you anything?” You asked, looking down and combing your hair back nervously.

  
“Ice?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know if I have any” Your roommates forgot to buy a tray, so you didn’t have any thing to make an ice pack.

  
“I’ll go get something,” Pat says, and before you can even offer he is gone. You sat down next to this stranger, feeling embarrassed and sort of drunk and at a loss for words or... anything.

  
“I’m Brian, by the way” he says, his hand falling from his head and smiling that kind of half smile that made it feel pink and rosy for just a moment.

  
“(y/n)”

“Oh, so I was looking for your party.” he laughed. He pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them, fidgeting with the polish on his nails. You smiled.

  
“So my reputation precedes me?” something about being acknowledged by him made you feel uncomfortably exposed. But you still wanted to smile. Maybe it’s because he had these really pretty eyes that looked so very tired, the kind of eyes you would call ‘poetic’ in your head and cringe at the thought of being so sappy about them. 

“No, no! I just have an orientation leader who knew you, and said I should come to your party. I just know your name. Promise” and although you were making a joke, you found it horribly sweet he was nervous about making _you_ nervous.

  
“So, you’re a freshman?”

  
“No, senior transfer. It’s been kinda tough meeting people because I’m new, and I know it’s really lame to shit on freshmen, but I want friends in my year, not that there’s anything wrong with being friends with someone-”

“I totally get it” You said pinching the fabric of his jean cuffs between your fingers. You didn’t want to look up at him with a dumb smile, which you were sure you had, so you then played with the tips of his shoe laces. Pat emerged from the house with two beer bottles hanging from between his fingers.

  
“Last two” he said, flopping onto the ground, and handing one to Brian. 

“Do you think it’s ok to drink post head injury?” you ask, looking up at Pat and covering your eyes from the street lamp.

  
“It’s to use like an ice pack. I brought this one to split” he explained, drinking and passing the bottle to you.

  
“By the way, your house is clearing out. Almost one.” Pat said flashing his phone clock your way. You were glad to return to quiet, even if your house was likely dirty. Brian chuckled a little, but his head hung downward. 

“Ugh, and I missed the party” he had a half hearted smile, but you could see he seemed upset with himself in some regard. The way he had one curl hanging in his face, you had this impulse to lift out of the way with your finger tip. You took the bottle he was holding by the cap and pressed it against the red spot on his head. He winced slightly, but seemed a little comforted.

“Why don’t you come in and watch some TV” 

_______

Brian laid on your couch, head propped by a pillow and you still holding a bottle to his head, sat on the floor in front of him. Pat was half falling asleep in your green recliner, and you were streaming Spongebob, y’know, something simple. Your roommates cleaned slightly around you all, Alex, the one who shared a room with you asking:

“What happened?”

  
“Fruit Bat” you replied.

  
“Ah.” She pressed her lips in a way that conveyed her frustration yet resignation. At one point you looked over and Brian was truly asleep, you gently removed the bottle and allowed him to spend the night. You, Pat, and your roommates gather in the hall outside your kitchen, all looking out onto Brian. Sleeping so peacefully, it felt as tho you all were watching something as small and precious as a baby duck, but was in reality a grown man with a head injury. It was that time of night that you valued most, when everyone was gone and you could reflect with the people that actually mattered. Who was the girl that was crying? Who won the pong game? Do we do this again tomorrow? When everyone went to bed, and Pat decided to leave for his townhouse, you came back downstairs for a glass of water. You tried to turn off the TV and Brian awoke slightly:

“Hey, I can get out of here if you want” 

“No, feel free to stay, I promise it’s fine” and as you were walking out of the room, you hear him giggle slightly and say:

“So nice…”


	2. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as you'd like to keep the passivity of your life, Brian seems to challenge you on that front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kinda want to clarify that I really want to work on the reader insert being a Problemed Character, so be ready for some silly mistakes lmao. Also, I mentioned this in a comment but, I'm not really on socials anymore so its been hard to share my work. I realize this tag is small and I probs wont get a lot of traction (Whatever attention it does get im so grateful for!!!!) but if yall like this and don't mind sharing I'd be so, so thrilled! Thank you for reading if you have and I'm currently working on the next chapter like.. right now lol.

The first thing you saw after waking up was that spot on your desk you keep the clumpy, gross, eyelashes you wore the night before. You pick up the corner of your mouth slightly when you think about the time Pat mistook them for spiders and jumped back. Next, you look at your phone, one notification from Pat who had sent you a tweet, multiple snaps- one of which from that guy you slept with last week, which you wanted to avoid answering so much that you locked your phone and stared at the ceiling for a while. 

Was Brian still downstairs? What would you say when you saw him? He must have drank a little, but he definitely wasn’t drunk- were you even? Why do you even feel embarrassed? You peeked out the window adjacent to your bed to help guess what time it was, it seemed to be early. This illusion was shattered when you decided to look at your phone again just to get rid of the notifications, and saw it was nearly noon. This pushed you from your bed, because the only source of free food on campus would be closing in a half hour. 

You didn’t have a hangover, so to speak, but your head had that grey feeling, the one where it feels like a pencil is digging deep scribbles all over the back of your brain. You failed to wake anyone else upstairs to come with you to the Caf, and you didn’t have the time to beg, so, you headed downstairs hoping Brian was on the couch.

  
He wasn’t. All that was left of him was a crumpled blanket and dirt mark on the couch's fabric from his shoes. You wouldn’t have expected him to have stayed, it was nearly the middle of the day and that _did_ mean something to some people. You wished you had asked for his phone number, or maybe his last name.  
____

After piling the last of the tater tots onto your plate, and thanking the cafeteria staff who could see the glitter still under your eyes, you filled a glass half way with Mr.Pibb and sat at the first table you saw. It wasn’t long after that Pat would come and interrupt you lazily picking at your food. He had two to-go cups, one filled with tea that was likely cold and the other filled with bacon. 

“Morning” Pat said while pulling out the chair in front of you.

“Oh hey, been here long?” you asked, hoping you weren't keeping him.

  
“Eh, sorta, but I’ve got nothing going on. You?”

“Shift at the library at one thirty” you rolled your eyes, you always promised yourself not to drink before a day at work. And you always said that would start next week. 

“Bummer. Talk to, uh, B-Bringo this morning?” Pat asked. Rubbing his temples trying to remember anything but the grapefruit. Pat often encouraged an endearing type of humor where he’d start to say something, and just continue with it, no matter how strange. It was highly contagious, and you couldn’t help but snort at his attempt at Brian’s name. 

“Brian, and no. He is but a mere memory to me” you said in this kind of far off way. And while you were joking, it saddened you to think that you wouldn’t see him again- well, likely you would- this was a small school. But if you did it would be that boring tradition where he raises a limp hand at you and turns away because you’re both too embarrassed to do anything about it, looking at the ground because 'dear god, nothings wrong but it just _feels wrong_ '. And you know that this will happen, yet you already see yourself complicit. 

“Ah, darn. He was pretty” Pat said, and you felt like he was watching your reaction a little too hard. 

“I know, and wherever will I find a pretty boy to do my bidding” you asked, while putting your near empty plate in front of him. You sat back and crossed your arms. Pat did a smile where he only showed the teeth on his left side and took the plate, you followed him while he disposed of it.

  
“Thank you” you said in a sing-song way, rubbing your shoulder up to his side, pushing him a little.

  
“Your Welcome” he replied pushing you back. 

“How about when I run out later today I pick you up a Mad Dog” 

“Ugh, is that what kind of night it’s going to be?” Pat said, laughing because you were the only one who could tolerate that overly sweet, consistently warm, and highly potent drink. 

“So you don’t want one?”

“No, don’t be crazy, get me the blue one”  
____

You were drawing mindless circles at the top of your notebook, trying to excuse them as notes for your most recent assigned reading. You were sat at the front counter of the library, occasionally looking up and pretending to be like everyone else around you. Quiet, hardworking, deep in the material- truth is you were so bored, constantly snapping back to look at the clock. Yes, still 2:45. You get off at 5.

  
It was right as you were getting into that excerpt about Degas’ dancers that you heard the printer next to you wake. It flashed, and spat out a several page long reading with color photos, meaning a student had sent it over. And you, Guardian of Color Printing, would be so gracious as to return these pixelated google image searches to their owner. As you stacked the papers on the desk, you saw a timid set of fingers edge the other side. Brian’s eyes darted but always returned back to you, his smile very tightly sealed. Discomfort. 

“Hey, Brian, right?” You faked, hoping to seem cool and aloof. Only then suddenly fearing that he would be offended by your ‘spotty memory’. 

“Yeah, (y/n), right?” he mirrored, his smile spreading in this really beautiful, genuine way.

  
“I’m sorry I didn’t catch you before you left, I-”

“It’s cool, I like, woke up at 7 and was like, uh-”

  
“I totally understand” It kinda felt like you had both said all of that on top of each other, and after a moment you both sighed and pushed out breaths in the shape of laughs. He fixed his glasses, quirking his lip. You found him utterly adorable if anyone were to ask you, he had this innate softness that was so safe and at the same exact time so, so scary.

  
“Stapled?” You asked, pointing his paper at him.

  
“What? Oh, uh, Yes. Please.” You giggled again and you hated how it sounded but he _did_ smile back. With a bitten lip you extended out his packet to him. Did he notice the slight tremor?

“Here" he started to turn and all of a sudden that felt so painful and hard that you reached out and touched his arm before he could get away.  
  
"So, uh, do you want to come through tonight? We’ll probably go to someone else’s house but, you could, uh, pregame I guess?” you squinted one eye shut while asking, feeling so exposed and vulnerable. The possible no could snipe you right between the eyes.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I think it would be fun.” You said firmly, and a little desperately if you were to look back on it. He seemed unsure, but not in a way that seemed repulsed, despite that being the adjective your anxiety would use.

“And like, Pat can come and I can formally introduce you to everyone, and-”

  
“That sounds really cool.” Normally, you would find all this interrupting off putting, but you felt a comfortable rhythm in it. He began to point his feet in the other direction, but had trouble moving. Was that really about you? Or were you projecting?

  
“Come to mine around 6, we can go on a beer run. You like Mad Dog?” 


	3. What Happens Next?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian seems to become more fascinating with each encounter, you feel like you're playing with fire, but are you the one who will get burned?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall!! Hope you enjoy! Remember if you want to share thats fine by me! Comments are really appreciated! Thank you!
> 
> EDIT: Hey so this is a lil embarrassing but I kinda jumped the gun on posting this bc i was so excited to get it up, so I had to go back and edit a couple times! Nothing plot wise changed but some of my mistakes were sooooo cringey. I've been playing around with a voice style for this piece that's more about immediacy but uses language that can be a little passive. But I find myself reusing phrases like 'kind of' or 'sort of' too much lol. I also had to fix up the grammar a little bc like. As much as I love a stylistic overuse of the word and I felt like i really over did it this chapter. So if you wanted to, you can reread this! But again nothing plot wise changed!

Scrambling and fussing over the passenger seat of your car, you barely heard Brian knocking on the window to get in. You pushed the door slightly open, taking an armful of trash to dump in the back seat.

  
“Ha, sorry about the mess. Christ” you laughed while squeezing the steering wheel with so much energy you thought it would snap in half from your embarrassment.

  
“It’s all good. Uh, here, can I venmo you for mine?” he asked, already typing something in his phone.

“God, no! I would never make you pay for a night of Mad Dog” you said. The only way you could convince anyone to drink it with you would be if you bought them the bottle. The pounding headache the next morning is never worth it, but you seem to forget that pretty often.

  
“That’s very sweet.” he cooed in a way that poked fun at you, but also rang with a pang of sincerity. He looked out the window as you drove off campus. You could see the upturned corner of his mouth, coated in the setting sun; he looked like he tasted of honey and chewing gum. You knew he wasn’t looking at anything particular, but you hoped he’d find something to focus on- just so you could drink in this innocuous yet deeply beautiful sight. It was addicting to look at him without feeling the pressure of being Seen. His eyes, while docile and particularly friendly, had an openness that made you feel so _looked at_. Like he could see every drunken insult, and poorly timed sentence- he could see all that ugly so quickly if he really took the time. So, you liked it best if he were to look away, but just enough that you could see his golden eyelashes gently tickle the sky in front of him. You snuck several glances between the road and him before saying: 

“I hope you’re not embarrassed about staying the night last night. Or getting hit. Or think that anyone is upset. And I hope you don’t think I’m-”

“I’m ok. I do enough worrying on my own, I’ll let you know when _you_ should” Brian said resting his head back on the seat and craning his neck your way. You look over in short bursts, chewing your lip and thinking of something to say. Eventually you just laugh, hoping that’s enough for him to take his eyes off you. He hangs on, though, and you feel this warmth in your chest bloom over your whole body. It’s this sensation that makes you feel tight, shocks of chills running down your arms, like tiny ants that will soon swarm and eat your brain, heart, and liver. He was still looking by the time you parked. You relaxed, breathed out and said:

“Wait here, this will take, like, two seconds.” 

There were multiple windows in Angel Liquors that Brian could use to track the top of your head as you wandered through the store. You didn’t know that Brian also had that tight feeling, his in his arms and legs. You didn’t see him lean forward and sigh loudly, then impulsively pull down the mirror in your car to check his hair- out fell a Joker playing card scribbled with the words ‘WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY’ (Brian chuckled reading this). There was also a picture of Pat and you, the one where Pat had your dab pen pinched between his toes and you were hitting it with no hands; something that would make your mother very proud. You didn’t see Brian push his smile to the side, and flick the picture with his thumb thoughtfully. You didn’t hear his ping pong thoughts, where he’d insult Pat, rub the bridge of his nose and remind himself that Pat’s not the issue, he was. He didn't, like, know the guy! You didn’t even see him shove the photo back into its spot by the time you opened the door and said:

  
“Hope I wasn’t too long”

  
“Not at all, you got the goods?” Brian said really hoping to make you laugh. It doesn’t have to be a big or long laugh, just a laugh. Once you did he had this sort of pride that only made him want to keep trying again and again, for so many hours that he'd gone starving and thirsty just trying to make you smile. Because if you did, he could taste cola on his tongue and feel sunshine on his cheek, you brought endless summer wherever you went. At least to him.

  
“Yeah, Brother” you started, pulling out the fluorescent bottles by their tops. Then you reached for something else, and tossed it into his lap.

  
“And I got you an oatmeal creampie”

  
“I read online that these pair well together,” Brian said, laughing and peeling the wrapper. 

____

In your bedroom, you could see Brian watching you apply your eyeliner in the corner of your mirror, and when you would meet his eyes he would knock back a gulp of his Mad Dog. You didn’t think about how much he had drank of it until he started giggling louder than he had ever allowed himself around you before. It was hard not to beam back at him, and when he heard your laugh, he rubbed his eyes with both hands and fell back on the bed.

  
“Sorry, I’m being silly” he apologized. 

  
“Very, and it’s alright” You said, turning your glance back to him, he lifted his head to meet you. His lips and cheeks were already dyed with a bright blush that conveyed a certain flush sweetness. You wanted to see his lips, pouted like they just were- slightly agape and his eyes looking up at you from under his long, delicate eyelashes as you straddled him.

  
Something about that thought was frightening enough for you to physically shake your head, you turned back to your desk for a split second before returning, and asking:

  
“Can I put glitter on you?” you said, holding up your palette.

  
“Yesss” he extended, with eyes that closed and squinted in a pleased, excited expression- all with a sleepy calmness gave his words a little melody. You crawled onto the bed next to him, bringing both your palette and your drink, which you chug a decent amount of before handing him the bottle.

  
“Hold this” you leaned down, dug your finger in a light blue glitter and tapped it alongside his cheeks. He started to look up at you- and for the first time, only for a second, it wasn’t so scary. You saw his eyes twitch slightly to watch you and suddenly felt flattered. For the first time they didn’t feel as though they could see through you, but in you, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad place. At least not to him.

  
“Hey guys” you heard Pat say as he walked in the room, seeing you both and taking a beat.

  
“What’s going on?” and he didn’t ask this in an accusatory way, but you could see he felt a little embarrassed. Knowing you and how physical and friendly you could be he didn’t, really, think anything about it. But maybe he did. Maybe it matters to you if it upsets him.

“Glitter!” Brian lifted his head and gestured towards his face, while you rocked back and sat on the bed, grabbing the other bottle of Mad Dog and tossing it his way.  
  
  
“Hell yeah” Pat grinned, twisting off the cap and drinking a little.

  
“Ah. Well, I got some catching up to do” he laughed.

  
It felt nice for Pat to talk to Brian. Finally get to know him (not that you did at all, though) and see him not attached to you or some stupid accident. You felt, although it was only a short time you had known of him, that he was this whole other entity that wasn’t _like_ Pat and you. While there was nothing wrong with Pat and your friends, and there is so much _good_ about them, it felt nice to be seen from a new perspective. For someone to see you, and not immediately know that you could be so fucked up. But there’s this awful, knowing feeling that Brian is going to stare too long, and see something he wishes he hadn’t.

Pat and Brian were getting along so well that they nearly forgot you by the time they were heading out the door to the party across the field. You almost fell down the stairs trying to catch up with them.

“Wait!”

  
“Oh shit sorry, (y/n)” Pat said, throwing an arm around your shoulder after you finally caught up.

  
“It’s alright, God it feels good to run” you said, slumping into Pat’s side, throwing you both off balance. You all laughed in a way that bordered on obnoxious. You then pulled Brian’s arm around you both, so that you must all walk in tandem. You were all so caught up in these drunken giggles that by the time you had arrived at the door, you hadn’t realized you’d made it the whole way. All three of you filed into the party, climbing a set of stairs lined with people, most of which you greeted, a lot of which you hugged. The crowd was pretty decent, so you reached back to grab the tip of Brian’s fingers trying to navigate him towards the kitchen. You tugged him in front of you as you leaned back on the fridge, looking up at him, you raised your half empty bottle.

  
“Cheers?”

  
“Cheers.”  
_____

  
The night continued with several introductions that Brian wouldn’t remember, but appreciated nonetheless. Pat did what he normally does, he parted from you for long gaps of time, but always remembered to find you every once in a while. This time he asked for a cig.

  
“Cig?” you asked, turning to Brian, who shrugged his shoulders upward and followed your lead, sure to grab your hand the entire time. You all traveled out to the patio which was luckily empty.

  
“Can we split?” You asked Pat, who nodded as he took a cigarette out of your pack. He lit, inhaled, exhaled, and handed it to you. You repeated, and then turned to Brian,

“Want to hit it?” Brian nodded, and seemed to breathe in this deep, long sigh of every tension he ever felt and ever would feel, and released it in this dramatic cloud that you swear looked kind of purple. You could see something lift off of him, and it made you feel lighter too.

  
“I feel like dancing, do you guys want to dance?” You asked, rolling your head back, marveling at your own idea. Dancing was not something you felt very comfortable doing, but on certain nights music found a way to sneak under your skin, just feeling too good and too loud not to. Brian lifted the corner of his lip at you, looked out from under half lidded eyes and nodded slowly.

  
“That sounds great.” he said, in a soft voice that made you forget any background fuzz. He was speaking to you, and only you, and no one else in the entire world. For the first time, he extended his hand out to _you_ to take you to the dance floor.

  
“Pat, come on!” you said, turning back to grab Pat’s arm.

  
“Nah, I’m gonna finish this. You kids have fun.” Pat’s voice had an undeniable sadness that you wished you had spent more time acknowledging. It was then you realized how isolating Brian's answer could have been. You stayed a second, and decided he probably didn’t want to be bothered- or at least that's what you're telling yourself- so you continued on with Brian. As horrible as you felt about it, those thoughts regarding Pat left your brain quite quickly when you entered the party again. Brian brought you to a cleared space on the dance floor, and lifted your arm for you to spin. When you did, you didn’t let go of his hand.

  
You both continued to swing and sway like that, linked by the arm and growing closer and closer. You both were drowning in blue light that was interrupted by rainbow spots traveling across your faces. And you don’t know how, but there came a moment when Brian’s hands were at your waist and your arms lazily drooped over his shoulders. You were finding healthy doses of looking at one another, then to the crowd, then to your feet. 

“Can I say something?” Brian asked, barely audible over the music. 

“Yeah”

“I think you’re really pretty” after hearing this, you breathed out a mix of a sigh and a giggle. You looked down for about the millionth time, but this time when you looked up his nose was brushing yours, but he wasn’t moving any further. Your faces so agonizingly close, and feeling the heat of his breath on your lips, you still were the one to make the final decision. Could you?You blinked upwards and saw those eyes that seemed so tired and quiet and humble flicker between your glance and your mouth. All at once, it became too much.

  
In a regretfully sudden way, you recoiled, jerking your arms back from him, not giving him much of an explanation besides:

  
“I’ve got to go” you felt a rogue tear traveling down your cheek as you descended the stairs. After opening the door you saw Pat, still alone.

“Hey, you ok?” he said, stepping on his cigarette, already ready to put you under his arm.

“Can we go home?” You asked him, hoping the tears didn’t shake your voice too much.  
_____

Upon arriving at your place, you filled a glass of water in the kitchen and Pat followed. You pulled yourself up to sit on the edge of the counter, after looking down at your feet for awhile Pat asked:

“What happened?” 

“It’s nothing. Dumb.” you faked a small giggle and wiped your nose with the back of your hand. You then finished the last of your Mad Dog, and held the bottle up at Pat.

  
“Beat you” Pat laughed at this, and decided to drink the rest of his own, which he slammed down with a hard gulp.

  
“Now we’re even” he grinned, throwing his bottle at the garbage and missing. You aimed as well, taking a little longer to prep, and missed.

  
“You suck” Pat joked, taking off his glasses to clean them. 

“Whatever, four eyes” this quip seemed to spill out of your mouth.

  
“And you’re bad at comebacks” he said, punctuating his point by putting on his glasses again. He took long lazy steps towards you, and this anticipation made your chest flutter in hard beats that vibrated down your ribs- almost painful. You could feel your heart thumping in your throat when he put his hand on the counter beside you. You were so very conscious of his thumb brushing your thigh, and in that moment, you wanted it to be his whole palm. You wanted his hands to be pushing up under your skirt and grabbing the meat of your thigh. He used his other hand to fix his hair in that way he knew looked kind of slutty but very willing, and all of a sudden, it was so easy to put your hand on the back of his neck, twisting your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Without any thought, he was already kissing you, moving to stand between your thighs and using his thumbs to dig into your hips. He planted forceful, choppy kisses that were needy and undeniably hot. When he finally moved back, his teeth grazing and pulling your bottom lip a tad, you looked up into his eyes with this desperate heat that you felt radiating off of your body and could see was staining his tongue.

  
“What happens next?” He asked, your head falling limp into the hand he placed on your cheek. 


	4. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You end up exactly where you had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time writing smut in a very long time so please forgive me if it is. rusty. Comment moderation is on! Please lmk if u don't want me to publish it :) AFAB reader that i've given minor feminine attribute to. Thank you for reading!!!!

Pat maintained an unbreaking eye contact with his question still freshly dripping off his lips. Your head still rested in his palm, and you felt his thumb take a brave leap to your bottom lip, caressing the chapped skin. You moved your teeth outwards to guide his thumb into your mouth, and let it rest on the flat of your tongue. Your lips drooped lazily over the skin of his finger, your teeth balanced without pressure on his knuckle, and of course your eyes locked on him from below the pieces of hair that hung in your face. He took his other hand and used one gentle finger to place your hair behind your ear. This threatens a lustful rest to your eyelids, but you were fast to blink open once again. 

This stare down felt as though you both were daring the other to make the next move. Pat’s question placed the ball firmly in your court, yet you empowered yourself with a bratty, teasing complex- that could only remain sexy for so long. And while these actions were asserted with an attitude of dominance and savvy, they originated, on both ends, from a place of fear. By all accounts, this was ‘too far’, but any farther felt so… deliberate. Everything before had a certain immediacy, but right then, Pat’s stare made the seconds tick by in agonizingly slow beats of your conjoined hearts. 

Pat’s eyes were not like Brian’s. His eyes were set in a familiar, deep shadow that you had spent the last four years decoding- a slight twitch- and you knew all about the whole new _him_ he was. However, you had not seen them this way before, but you could see familiar hints of whatever he was right then. He had that hard stare that interrogated the gulp in your throat, the tremble in your shoulder. He could utilize this when he had to talk you out of making a stupid decision, like skinny dipping with that guy from the rugby team. But this particular stare was not that, this one was characterized by an overwhelming softness. Admiration, you deduced. This sternness he wielded was not intended for you, but for himself. You watched as his jaw shifted, gritting his teeth as to not let anything free. To not be vulnerable. You could feel him _think_ that you were beautiful. That didn’t mean you didn’t want to (need to) hear him say it out loud. 

You understood your position, standing at the ledge and looking down at a pool of opaque something. Were you to jump? Break through the surface and sink into total perceived nothingness? Enveloped in a possible anything? You could see this pool in Pat’s pupil, and while you stared, the murkiness cleared itself. You could see cherries, full packs of cigarettes, bottles pouring whiskey, the red flowers that were planted by the science building, thrift shop figurines, Jolly Ranchers, crushed up Adderall, water bottle bongs, 3 am McDonalds, lipstick kisses, and of course glitter. 

Not only would you jump, you would dive head first.

You moved your head back, sucking the length of Pat’s thumb, and let him use the digit to drag down your bottom lip. Against this skin, he could feel the vibrations of your demand: 

“Upstairs.”

You weren’t sure who led who up the stairs, who checked the room to see if it was empty, who locked the door, but it was certain that it was Pat who kissed you again, and you who turned off the overhead light. You backed up, and pulled him to the bed by the collar of his wrinkled button up. He kneeled on one knee over you, his head crooked to the side in a way that let the light from your lone desk lamp dance across the high points of his face. He was washed in an acidic yellow color that only distinguished the shadows more, the silhouettes. 

He removed his glasses and sat them on your desk. When he returned you pushed out your lips in a presuming purse, expecting to be met, but suddenly finding yourself reaching and reaching, no end to be found.

  
“Are you sure about this?” Pat said, at first looking at you and then to the floor. The light outlined his profile in a way that read like a Siken, it felt so overwhelmingly profound and poetic that you quickly took his head in both your hands, framing his jaw in your splayed digits. You touched your forehead to his, missing every chance to say anything. Every word was gone, all that was left was the needy pulling of your fingertips.

  
“Is this what you want?” he asks in a breathy plea. The crack in his voice makes you see it. See a man so ready to give you everything he could, or at least a good fuck. You decide if it is the latter, how could you possibly say no. If it is the former, you would figure that out later. 

“Yes. Please.” you said in a way that maybe didn’t _ring_ with desperation, but surely smelled of it. He pushed you back on the bed, diving into one more kiss that finally allowed his tongue to make tentative brushes against yours. It was the willingness of your own tongue that encouraged Pat to make one certain movement, in combination with a thrust against your pelvis with his, that sent a truly rattling shiver down your body. It was with that, you decided, no more clothes. 

Your hands made clumsy attempts at unbuttoning his shirt. After one too many trembles, he dismissed your hands to remove your own clothes. He finished his shirt quickly, and made a dramatic show of undoing his belt. Before long, he is much more naked than yourself- admittedly you may have been watching. 

“Can I?” he asked while grabbing the hem of your shirt. Before he can even finish saying it, you have nodded and encouraged his hands to push the fabric off of you and over your arms. He held your wrists down, not with a determined force, but as a way of balancing himself to look down and take your body in. He had seen you nude before, by accident when you were changing, or that time you both went streaking, and none of those times he peeked in a crude or insensitive way. But it would be a lie to say he hadn’t wanted to look the way he was now. The way where he can truly, and as slowly as he would like, worship every part he pleases. He sighed this lilac cloud of lust accompanied by a barely audible moan, and dove for your chest. Dragging his fingers down your arms, ready to cup your waist, he allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he placed an eager mouth over the sensitive peak of your nipple. He flicked his tongue initially, which triggered an unexpectedly loud and immediate moan from the back of your throat. So sudden, in fact, you found yourself laughing after you heard yourself. Pat smiled against your chest, deciding that he liked it when you moaned, but even more when you laughed. 

This made him want to kiss you again, and you were all too ready to accept. You shimmied your skirt and panties off of your thighs, the only piece of clothing left between you was Pat’s boxers, which didn’t conceal too much, the head of Pat’s cock timidly emerging from the fly. You playfully reached and snapped his waistband against his hip, and he took the cue, removing them while maintaining eye contact. You could track the fear in his eyes as he felt himself so exposed in front of you. He took himself in his hand, and gave a lazy pump. He popped a thumb into his mouth, followed by an index finger, wetting them both to provide a longer, more satisfying stroke as he looked at you. Your legs were butterflied open for him, and you laid slouched against the back wall, over the pillows, and your pelvis propped up by the mattress. You felt as though you were looking over him from your half lidded eyes, waiting for him to crawl into your embrace.

  
“C’mere” you lazily beckoned, pinching the nail of your index finger between your teeth. He leaned forward, wrapped his arm around your back, and took the thumb of his opposite hand, he dragged it from your chin, down your sternum, over your belly, until it was pressing softly against your clit. This hitched your breath, and he removed himself only to see how whiny and desperate your expression would get. He was satisfied with the result. He tentatively ran his index fingers across your folds before taking a slow dip in. When feeling you, your warmth, and your wet he groaned hoarsely. 

“Oh m-my God” he stuttered, looking away to hide the roll of his eyes. You think it surprised him that _you_ could be turned on for _him, by him_. But how could you not? You’d be lying if you said you never found Pat attractive. But Pat wasn’t a guy you could just fuck, and maybe that’s why you never did it. What the hell is supposed to happen after this? You shook your head to rid this thought, and luckily you were still drunk in a way that made that an easy thing to do. 

Pat pushed a finger deep inside you, twitching it slightly upward in a way that released a small ‘Ah’ from the side of your mouth. He smiled proudly, which made your heart melt, just a little. He did this a few more times, enough to allow him to add another finger. When he did this, you bucked your hips forward at the sudden introduction, but rode along in elongated thrusts as his fingers flexed within you. You ran your fingers through his hair, able to see clearly into his eyes, his brows upturned and pensive. It shocked you too see how much he was _focusing_ , wanting this to be _good_. Most experiences you had had with other guys were so arrogant, knowing, and passive. Pat held onto you like you could slip away at any moment, and seemed petrified at that thought. It was with this realization that you asked:

“Just fuck me” and you hoped this didn’t sound they way it had sounded any other time you said it. Hoping they would press your face in the pillows and mindlessly fuck you for the sake of fucking you. You hoped this sounded like you meant it- a needing statement. You hoped he could hear a carnal urge in your voice as you begged for his closeness. He complied, rising above you slightly, and pushing back your leg so that the back of your shin may rest on his shoulder. After applying a condom he found lying on your desktop, he positioned himself to enter you, and you chewed your bottom lip in anticipation. One hand held his shoulder, and the other spread yourself open for him, the hard swallow of your throat was released when he finally, _finally_ lowered himself into you. He watched intently as you raised your eyebrows, and let your head fall back gently against the wall. 

“You’re so beautiful” he says in a quick breath before jerking his hips forward in a nervous thrust. When he finally said this it satiates this hunger you felt deep in the pit of your stomach, this ravenous need for his verbal confirmation- that he thought you were beautiful. Not that you were warm, not that you were soft, not that you were _there_. But that you were this new thing for him, this novel being that he had felt so lucky to have even encountered. Maybe he felt the way you felt, maybe just a little. But what even was that to begin with?

He delivered a steady stream of movements into you, his head buried into the crook of your neck, giving distracted, mindless kisses to that shivering, sensitive skin. A particular moan of his, that shattered as it exited his mouth sent you to the sensory purgatory right before climax. You waited at the edge, any of his less calculated slams able to set you over. It was either a second or forever before you nudged his mouth onto yours, and the contact of your tongues sent pulsating waves across your body. You twitched around him, and his orgasm came soon after. You felt him throb in hard flexes within you, and he stayed. He remained panting on your chest, allowing your leg to come down and wrap over his hip. He breathed these hard, labored breaths that were easily exhaustion, but also sounded of something edging on fear. Your arms come up to wrap him in your embrace, and he begins to move.

  
“No- Stay. For a little.” you whined softly. And he stayed. 

After laying like that for a little, he removed himself from you, tossing the condom in the waste bin. You both wordlessly got under the covers, but remained distanced, deliberately not touching under the blanket. 

“Can we talk about what just happened?” Pat asked. And it felt guilty and sick and _stupid_ but the only answer you could seem to give is:

  
“In the morning.” You turned your back to him, yet reached back and pulled his arm to rest over your stomach. He nudged in close to you, and pressed a kiss on your hair, one he thought you didn’t notice.

You saw your phone on the ground before you light up, a text notification. Brian’s name flashed across the screen.


	5. Does it Stay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning afters are never pleasant. This one seems to be the strangest you'll ever encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! This is pretty short, but I felt bad about not having published for a bit. I would really appreciate feedback if you're reading! Comment moderation is on! Let me know if you don't want me to publish! Really hope yall like this one, and there will be Brian Content TM in the next chapter <3

You woke up. The sunlight coating you in long strips pried your eyes open, only to see yourself tangled in the bedsheets, as well as Pat’s limbs. His hair, while not as long as it has been in the past, found ways to twist and point across his forehead, and your pillow. His stubble seemed darker, and you could see phantom stains of your lipstick coloring his upper lip, which puffed out as his mouth sat slightly agape. His soft breaths hummed so quietly that it felt like a crime that you would ever have to wake him up, especially because you were likely to upset him when you did. 

And that is where the problem lies, isn’t it? Because, in all honesty, you didn’t know what happened last night, and you didn’t know how you felt about it. It is easy to say that you liked kissing him, and you even liked the way he can make you laugh- and maybe you’ve always liked that. But there was no urgency to your feelings. He hadn’t been needed until you found yourself, very suddenly, _needing_. Needing, when he looks down on you with a hand dangerously close to your hip. And what does that mean? Does the needing stay? Will it stay forever, now?

  
He is beautiful. You can say that with a confidence that penetrates beyond his physicality. With him, you know that you are cared for. You heard it in his voice, questioning you about Brian at breakfast, and you felt it when he was gripping your thighs. His hands, God, his hands and your thighs…

  
Was this all because of a good fuck? You’d done that before. Fall in love with some Econ major because he can eat pussy with an academic dexterity. Pat was there to console you after that one. Pat was always there, you remembered.

  
Pat began to stir slightly as you reached for your phone. With the remaining five percent you were able to read Brian’s message from last night.

  
_I’m really sorry if that was too much_

  
_Talk tomorrow?_

  
Without hesitation, or even a glance at Pat’s sleeping body, you typed out a hurried “Yes” and placed your phone face down on your desk. Pat flipped back to his side and began blinking his eyes open. A smile did not dare to twitch his mouth. When he was able to focus his glance on you, his eyes looked up at you in a way that makes them feel so vast that you could fall right in, never to be heard or seen again. He propped himself up on an elbow, and cleared his throat:

“Hey” this hit your ear with this dripping, knowing sadness that sincerely took you aback. 

“Hey” you said, like he scraped his knee and you wished to apply one hundred bandages.

  
“I- I need to know what you’re thinking,” he stuttered, looking to his fingers, which are busy picking at the skin of one another. 

“I…” you began, so lost. You needed guidance on where to start.

“I liked it.” he said, followed by a dry swallow.

  
“I did too” you said, and it was true. Because, it was more. More than other times. Other people. But the crushing thing is that more, is sometimes not really enough.

  
“I can’t expect you to know everything right now, I mean I don’t” Pat started, and in this statement you began to see where your doubts lie. If you were to picture yourself and Pat, you saw yourselves sat in your living room. People would be bustling around you, and you both would be side by side, sipping your beer and saying nothing. Does that change if you begin to hold hands? You were, admittedly, stagnant. And Pat represents the world that encourages that, doesn’t he? 

“But we could maybe try again, sometime?”

  
“I can’t promise you anything. I can’t promise anyone anything” You said, raking your fingers through your hair with a pained embarrassment. Feeling self pitying, and wearing ‘Pathetic’ as a superlative. 

“I want you to believe what you're saying, and you should have time to figure it out” Pat said, then shifts in a way to let this ray of light paint a golden beam across his face, and it felt almost hilariously symbolic. Maybe you didn’t have to pin him with all of your problems, and even the ones he shared, maybe he wanted out as much as you. Your phone buzzed.

  
“Brian?” Pat asks with an undeniable frown.

  
“Yeah, probably” You answer, a vague shame pressing your glance down.

  
“You like him, don’t you? Because he likes you too.” You expected Pat to be bitter when he asked this, but he asked it with the lightest tremor in his voice. You see, all at once, that he was afraid. Afraid you had just lied to his face, no thinking to be done. Just a hasty excuse.

  
“He wanted me to kiss him, I think. I wanted to. But I couldn’t.”

  
“But you could kiss me?” His voice sounded as though he wasn’t sure to be upset or not. 

“It’s just different” You sighed in an almost shrill way.

  
“If I like Brian, then I like you too” you continued with the most passive statement you could make. As unsatisfying as it felt to say, you could see Pat’s brows begin to knit together in thought: 

  
“I want to be patient. I really do. But I can’t do this forever” Pat said, sitting up finally, but keeping his gaze firmly on you. It dawned on you that this was more than last night for him, which probably shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. You would wait to blush about this. 

“I know” You said in a way that didn’t fix anything. But, miraculously, he took your head softly in his palm and pressed an elongated, tender kiss to your forehead.

  
“I’ll see you later” He said, standing up to get dressed silently. You find yourself unable to speak during this time, only watching as he readies himself. In a new, unexpected way, you missed his presence in the bed. The warmth. He begins to leave, turning to you again, smiling in a sweet, hard candy way that reads, you hope, with love. Or like. Or whatever he has always supplied you with.

  
“I promise.” He left, and it was so, so empty. You reached for your phone. One unread message from Brian:

  
_Meet me at 4?_


	6. Am I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you face Brian after last night's events?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS REALLY SHORT! Im so sorry about that I just have been having a hard time finding time/ inspo to write this? If yall are thinking or feeling anything (comments/suggestions, etc.) pleaaase comment!!! Hope you all are well and thanks for reading!!

On the south side of campus there is a small convenience store, where you semi-frequently stopped to pick up burnt coffee, served with a resigned yet still passive aggressive expression. While there you pocketed a Nerds Rope and a pack of Trident, burying them in the cavernous pockets of your denim jacket- which was roughly 3 sizes too big. You doubt you were seen, but even if you had been, was anyone going to care? When exiting the shop you looked out on the patio, finding Brian sat at one of the several wooden tables squinting into his laptop. 

Unexpectedly, you felt your heart jump to your throat, and a cold chill of anxiety shot down your spine. In retrospect, it is funny to think someone as quiet as him could conjure something so _loud_. You made timid steps to the chair sitting across from him, pulling it out with a limp hand. He was quick to look up, let a smile shape the left half of his mouth, and plucked an earbud from his ear.

  
“Hey” his smile was now his whole mouth, and the anxiety chills were now replaced with a blooming warmth, originating in your cheeks.

  
“Hey” he said. A beat.

  
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t say anything and, like, just left-”

“Whoa, Whoa! No I was being, like _weird_. And-

  
“No! Don’t be-” As your words toppled over one another, a moment of realization washed over the both of you. You both shared a small giggle. You decided you wished to preserve the face he made, the one where he pushed his mouth to the right in a smothered smile. He ducked his head down, letting the smile widen and chew his bottom lip. His fingers reached up and played nervously at the nape of his neck. He looked up, and let his hand fall, a sweet yet clearly embarrassed expression molds his extremely forward eyes. They have become scary again. 

“I’m sorry. I just- I guess, I thought you felt a different way” He looked down again, hiding his face. You leaned back and rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands, feeling frustrated and useless, knowing your answer to this _couldn’t_ be simple and you _couldn’t_ say anything that you needed to.

  
“Look, I don’t know how I feel. Like, I met you a few nights ago. Can I just have some fucking time?” You said, not in a cutting way, but as though you were fighting for air.

  
“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry I-”

  
“Please don’t apologize.” You said, your head propped up by your elbows.

  
“I- I think you’re really beautiful. And I just feel like, you’re just, kinda amazing…” he mumbled, not confident in his voice, but definitely in the things he was saying. This brought you a pressed smile that was quickly bittered by discomfort. You wanted to believe him, and on some level you do. You can see that he sees you as this thing you want to be for him, that it would be easy and nice to be. But the mirror is also being held up to what you really are, someone who isn’t equipped to be _amazing_. You couldn’t be amazing when you were buying 7 hour Vyvanse to finish projects that were assigned weeks ago, or when you would have to get stoned to the point that teetered on comatose whenever you needed to call your brother, or even when Brian would likely be holding back your hair as you puked purple something on a Saturday night. Not even when you would have to tell Brian about the last guy who held your hair, and why he is a prime example of why you can’t just _be amazing_. The Pat topic felt like it laid flat on your tongue, waiting to spill at any moment. Not the time.

“I think you’re special, I really do. Can we just, I don’t know, take it a day at a time? Have fun?” You let one of your hands fall and reach across the table, and layed your fingers over his. He let out a small laugh.

  
“Yeah, of course. I’d really like that.” He smiled, and you wondered if you had to _try_ to be amazing to him. Or if his eyes do what you think they can, and they see through everything and anything. All the fronts and personalities and fake aloofness, they see what they see and make peace with it. That’s a nice thought.

  
“Do you wanna do something?” you proposed, eventually finding his newly eager eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment Moderation is on! Just lemme know if u want to stay anon or anything!


End file.
